


Her Time

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post Season 8, Post War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 18:41:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16203377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: Even the mighty Brienne of Tarth needs to be cared for now and then.





	Her Time

"I don't need taking care of," Brienne huffed, hunching further into herself as she huddled beside the fire.

 

Jaime shoved a flagon of mulled wine into her hand and watched silently as she sipped tentatively, taking care not to burn her tongue on the scorching liquid.

 

"You will want to drink that up before it gets too cold," he said, "Get it down while it's hot."

 

Brienne rolled her eyes and kept on sipping, which she would have done anyway, even if Jaime hadn't oh so kindly ordered her to do so. Her shoulders suddenly grew heavy as a second fur was draped over her. She could feel Jaime lingering behind her, sense his eyes boring into her back. She kept her gaze fixed on the fire, her focus set on the heat pouring into her hands from the flagon.

 

"Are you going to be standing there all night?" she demanded at last.

 

"If I must." he said curtly.

 

Brienne pretended she wasn't smiling. It was hard to accept that night had been the final battle. In Brienne's head there was still a million enemies to face, a thousand wars to rage. To think that she could sleep until all the weariness had drifted away and her eyes opened with ease was near impossible.

 

Having Jaime beside her made it easier.

 

Not that she would ever tell him that, not on pain of death. The man already believed himself indispensable to her, fretting over her the moment he caught sight of her limping half frozen into the Winterfell courtyard on her bloodied leg, hovering as the Maester tried to stitch her up and then bundling her up in fur and plying her with hot drinks once they had been left in her chambers.

 

 

"You should go to bed once you've finished that," Jaime instructed.

"What was that I said about not needing taking care of?" Brienne reiterated.

 

"Everyone needs taking care of now and then." Jaime insisted.

 

"Not me," Brienne said simply, "I haven't been taken care of since I was five."

 

"Well maybe it was time you took it back up again." Jaime suggested.

 

And then he was running his hand through hair. His touch was so gentle, so firm and tender. A shiver went up Brienne's back. It was so unlike anything else. Punches to the gut and blow to the legs? Those she could handle. Attempts at decapitation? Bring them on. But Jaime caressing her hair was so far out of her comfort zone that it could not be seen through a telescope.

And yet, instead of tensing beneath his touch her shoulders slackened and a drowsy calm swept over her.

 

"Do you need help getting into bed?" Jaime murmured.

 

Brienne opened her mouth to say no, but instead a yes came slipping out. Jaime draped her arm over his shoulder and lead her over to the bed. He deposited her onto the mattress and pulled the thick quilt back, seeing that she was cocooned in furs and blankets. He tucked them firmly around her, swaddling her tightly.

 

"There," Jaime said smugly, sitting back and smiling at his handiwork, "Even the stubborn Wench can't deny that it is pleasant to be taken care of now and then."

 

"Who took care of you, when you were ill or injured?" Brienne asked, blinking languidly up at him. Seven, she was tired.

 

"My nurse, when I was younger," Jaime said, "And Tyrion and I always knew what the needed as we grew older."

 

"Not Cersei?"

 

"Gods no!" Jaime laughed, "Cersei despised weakness. It sickened her."

 

"I'm sorry," Brienne told him.

 

"Don't, I suspect any chance for me to admit Cersei's faults is good for me," Jaime assured her, smoothing down her furs, "Oh, and you."

 

"What?"

 

"You. You took care of me. When the rest of world would have looked upon me with disgust, you held me in your arms and refused to see me as weaker. I was able to show myself to you in way i could never have done with any other."

 

Brienne thought on all those men who had watched her and waited on tenterhooks for the slightest sign of weakness. She could understand that all too well.

 

"Of course I would take care of you," Brienne said earnestly, "I always will."

 

"And for that I am grateful," Jaime thanked her, "But for now, I think it is your turn. And make the most of it."


End file.
